Chasing Julia
by MiraiYume
Summary: [Oneshot] A brief snapshot of Spike's life shortly after joining Jet. Giving up the past is hard to do, especially when it's who you are.


Author's Notes: Happy New Year! As part of my resolutions, I'm trying to post stories that have been rolling around in my mind lately. This is certainly a more recent one, but I just wanted to get it posted. It is a oneshot, nothing more, but it was fun to write. A little something to get the mind thinking!

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Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop.

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**Chasing Julia **

As he ambled along the busy walkway, Spike looked neither left nor right. He sighed, hating that Jet sent him out to run a damn errand - groceries, of all things - but there wasn't much room for argument. When he boarded that ship, the older man had him agree to a few things, and this was one of them. It wasn't so much that he minded it, it was just that it was busy stuff, stuff that he hadn't ever liked, nor really had to do. Besides, if he wasn't out looking for a bounty, it was just as easy for someone to be out, looking for him…

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Jacqueline hurried home through the dead air, the chill running through her body as her boots crunched the snow underneath. It was an ugly snow, brown and gritty from sitting on the ground too long, but it was too cold to melt. And so it stayed. 

She was a sight to behold in this forsaken place, though her long, tan trench coat tried to hide it. Her army surplus boots from days long ago, and black wool hat also tried to hide her, but she was one of those individuals who can't be hidden for long.

Her mother always blamed it on her looks, the long blond hair, the soft brown eyes, the rounded nose and full lips, the curves and sway of her step. Jacqueline grew impatient with herself for this unexpected shortcoming, this beauty that she didn't ask for, that she grew not to want. But it was there.

Her father blamed it on her attitude, her happy-go-lucky attitude that grew into a devil-may-care attitude; the attitude that she always portrayed with a little flip of her hair and a gleam in her eye,. Jacqueline loved her attitude and refused to step back and let people think she was only good for her looks. It was this challenge that she loved and relished, and later grew to thrive on.

And now she hurried home, this ordinary woman who was more than she seemed. She carried two light bags, filled with a few essential food items for herself and for the dog that she didn't own. It was a neighborhood dog, a roaming dog, that always came to her house on Tuesday evenings, friendly and smiling, asking for a meal and a pat on the head before bounding off again. Jacqueline called it Howie, for no particular reason.

"Hey, missy." The rough voice behind her immediately sent her on edge, alarms ringing through her mind. She quickened her pace, urgency filling her mind as she tried to clear the last few blocks before her street.

"Spare some change?" Another voice asked, this one with a light growl intertwined with it.

"Surely you'll help out a friend in need," chorused another voice, this one with definite malice intended behind it. Jacqueline took the cue and started to run. As she felt a body closing in, she twisted slightly, bringing her bags up and hitting the man in the head before he knew what happened.

"Ow, ya damn bitch!" he yelled out, staggering out of step. She kept running, and then sprang to the left as another body closed in from the right. As she did, she ducked, feeling the sweep of an arm above her head, knocking her hat off and her blond head was exposed.

Her mistake had been leaping left, as she now backed into an alley, houses rising tall on either side of her and a fence to her back. The three men advanced, sneers on their faces. Jacqueline dropped her groceries and charged.

Her run was unexpected, and she made it past two of the men as they lunged for empty air, but the third one managed to swipe his leg down and underneath hers, sending her off balance and crashing into the pavement below. She groaned, and struggled to rise, but then the men were there, grabbing her, holding her down, and so she screamed then, a desperate wail, asking for help from somebody, anybody.

As hands slammed over her mouth, Jacqueline felt complete terror in the fleeting silence.

And then there was someone there, a man, who just flew in, graceful as you please, and made quick work of the thugs. She struggled up, in an awkward sitting position, her legs underneath her and her hands on the ground, numb in the snow. As her now-unruly haired billowed around her shoulders, she watched the stranger approach her. He looked at her, right in her face, _right into her soul_.

"Your eyes are two different colors," she said to him. As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She should have thanked him, or run away, because maybe he was worse than those other three guys. But there it was, and she waited for a response from him, for something, anything from him.

As for the man, he stared at her a moment longer, this time in slight shock. Then he shook his head, as though clearing it of something, and extended a long hand out to her. Jacqueline took it and he helped her up, before crouching himself to pick up her hat and bags.

"Thank you," he said to her, and she started at his tone more than his words. "You shouldn't travel alone," he added, and then turned to walk away. As this remarkable person walked away from her, Jacqueline faltered, wanting to say something else.

"Thank you," she whispered back to him, not knowing if he heard it or not.

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Spike stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders over. Why he had just done what he had just done he didn't know. Actually, he did know, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. Walking down the street, lost in those damn memories, he had thought for a fleeting second that it was Julia there. This girl had the right physique and hair color, but it wasn't her. She had a look of innocence around her, the kind that melted off a person who tried not to be innocent. Julia was anything but innocent. 

This girl though, she was quick. She learned more about him than most people in those few seconds he had looked at her while she stared back. People rarely looked at him close enough to notice, much less comment on, his eyes and he didn't know what to do. So he thanked her and tried to move on. It was just all in the past now. It was hard though, to move on from the past. Because he kept thinking maybe one of these days it would really be Julia he found, and then his past would have to give up on him.

As for now, he would probably have to explain to Jet why he managed to get a black eye when he was supposed to be getting the bell peppers.


End file.
